Shadow Girl
by AMDUSIAS
Summary: A view of the Scrapyard and life in general...from a very different point of view. It starts weird, like everything I write.
1. Fly From the Danger

Part 1: Fly from the Danger  
  
"Goddammit, can't you do anything right?! You damn girl, get outta  
here before I bust yer head open!!" The man swung a heavily muscled arm at  
the trembling figure standing before him.  
"GET!!!" The girl gave a squeak and ran out through a door. The man  
snorted, and poured another drink for the cyborg seated at the bar.  
"Got problems o' my own," the barkeep muttered, "Don't need 'er   
running around here and breakin' stuff. That other bar, whassit called...??"  
"Kansas?" the cyborg ventured hesitantly.  
"Shu' up!! Did I ask you?!?" The cyborg shook his head in panic.  
"N-no sir!! Not my place to butt in!!" The barkeep swept up the  
broken glass from the dropped bottle into a dustpan, which he emptied into  
the metal wastebasket.  
"Kansas......business ain't been so good e'er since that one opened."  
The barkeep snorted, and refilled another customer's glass.  
" 'F we don't keep enough chips flowin' though here, we're gonna get  
condemned and torn down." The little girl peeked quietly through the crack in the   
door.  
"Uncle Roy-"  
"GET OUT!!!!" The girl shrieked and shut the door hastily. She ran  
down the cement hallway to the old rusting metal door to her room. It squeaked   
loudly as she opened and shut it; its rusty hinges were wearing thin and would   
need replacing soon, or she would lose her door.  
She was almost ten now, and for nine long years since the orphanage  
stopped taking the money from her deceased parents's account, she had   
lived with her uncle Roy. He was a tyrant bar owner, who was poor, mean,  
and one helluva drug addict, but he was her only living relative. She hated   
him as she had hated no one else. It was a burning fire in her heart, that  
charred any fond memories of him to black dust.  
Her mind was made up. She grabbed her worn denim pack and   
dumped the contents of her cardboard-box dresser on the ground. Neatly  
folding the clothes, she packed them all in, along with pocket money and her  
valuables, consisting of old holocards, trinkets, and a hairbrush and necklace or  
two. She packed her rented schoolbooks; she didn't care if it was stealing or  
not, when Roy had used the food money for drugs, she had stolen from  
the market vendors and the restaurants.  
She took the money from her uncle's strongbox, she took her dad's  
old leather jacket and put it on, unaware of the fit, which was much too big  
for her. She put on a wool cap to hide her brown hair, and wrapped a scarf  
around her face. Putting on her boots, and shouldering her back, she  
went to the back yard of the bar, which was filled with empty bottles and   
old papers. The cinderblock fence was the first major obstacle she had to  
tackle.  
The girl climbed up the rough blocks, scratching her hands. She   
reached the top and vaulted into the street below, landing lightly on the concrete,  
unnoticed by the passing people. She took off in a random direction, running  
as hard and fast as she could.  
***  
"Seka, the bar's closed. You need to wash the dishes....Seka?" Roy  
Kristen peered into the gloom of his niece's room.  
"Dammit!! That bitch!!!" Roy grabbed his coat and dug through an  
old beer case to find his gun, an illegal purchase that had to be hidden.   
"Damn kid....thinks that she can run away, do she...." Roy marched out  
into the street, and walked off fast, concealing the weapon under his coat.  
"She'll get what's comin' to her....."  
***  
"I need a knife." Seka shoved some chips onto the knifesmith's   
counter.  
"What're ya lookin' fer?" the smith drawled, "Sometin' small fer   
protection or sometin' big fer murder?" Seka thought.  
"Something not too big, but nice and sharp. And light." The smith  
chuckled.  
"Knives is always sharp, honey. I got just the thing fer ya." The smith  
removed something from his backroom, wrapped in leather.  
"Some cyber asked me ta make this thing fer 'im, then he went along  
and got killed. So I'm givin' it ta ya." The knife was long and thin, about the length  
of her arm. It was cool to the touch, and the handle was supple and easy to   
grip.  
"If yer plannin' on killin' anyone, watch out fer them hunter-warriors. And   
keep it clean. Good blades cut best when they're clean." He gave the knife to  
Seka. She nodded silently, and slipped the knife under her coat. Now that  
she had protection, she was ready for anything.  
To Be Continued... 


	2. Born from the Ashes

Part 2: Born from the Ashes  
  
Roy paced the streets, glaring at everyone who passed his way. A   
couple of kids came up to him.  
"Lube job mister? We use top-quality silicon oil with Teflon...." The  
hooded boys grinned at him.  
"I'm not a cyber. Go away." The kids dashed away, laughing at their  
mistake.  
"Damn kids..." Roy muttered under his breath, and checked to see  
that his gun was loaded. A familiar-looking person ran out of a nearby alley,  
and ran into him.  
"Hey! Watch it you little creep!!" snarled Roy. The person got quickly  
up.  
"Sorry, sir..."  
"Wait!!!" Roy grabbed the person's cap, and it slid off. "Seka!! You little  
sneaky brat!!!" The girl trembled, and reached into her coat. Roy whipped his  
gun out. Passerby's froze.  
"Bitch!! Harlot!! I'll make you pay!!" Roy cocked his gun. People ran off   
to get the Factory alerted. Seka glared at Roy. She grabbed something  
under her coat.  
"What? You gonna hurt me wid a look or a spoon or something?"  
Roy chuckled. Something flashed in Seka's eyes.  
"Shut up!!" She jumped at Roy, and the silver blade appeared from  
under her coat. In one clean sweep, Roy's head was severed from his body, his  
face still wearing a bemused expression. Blood poured from the open wound, and  
people crowding around the scene gasped, or let out grunts of disgust. Seka  
stood there glaring, then her glare turned to a face of shock.  
"W-what did I do....??" She stared at the decapitated corpse in  
confusion. Then, she turned on her heels and ran.  
"Factory!! Coming through!!" The Factory forces arrived just as the  
last of the crowd was dispersing. The deckmen looked around in confusion.  
"Well, someone clean that up at least...."  
***  
Seka stopped running behind a pile of old cars in the scrap heap. She  
caught her breath, and cleaned off her blade on an old rag she had found.   
They wouldn't find her here.  
She leaned back against a rusting broken Mercedes, and rubbed her  
forehead. She couldn't go home now. She would just keep running. It sounded  
harder than it probably was, and now that Roy was dead, the bar would be  
demolished. All she had to do was stay clear of the hunter-warriors, and she  
could make her living off of stealing and killing.  
Seka smiled. This life would be exciting, more than cleaning bars and  
picking up trash and mopping the floor. Now she was free.  
To Be Continued... 


	3. Daughter of the Shadows

Part 3: Daughter of the Shadows  
  
"...As the man was wielding a gun, no charges will be held against  
his murderer, but we would appreciate it if someone would come forth and  
claim responsability so we can input it to the records." The report faded   
from the radio as Seka flicked off the old set. She had found it in the  
dump and it was an interesting garnish for her self-created apartment.  
The dump held riches. Two ancient rusting cars formed the  
walls on three sides, a tin plate made a door on the forth. She had gouged   
windows in some places with a crowbar, and had used some old cushions  
for furniture. The battery-fueled radio was a suprise, but she scrounged up   
money for some batteries to use on it, and as long as they didn't die soon,  
Seka could be informed of everything.  
She found the bit of food that she had been saving for dinner.   
Right about now the Factory would be destroying the dead body of her  
uncle, and his bar would be cleared out for something new. Seka smiled  
secretivly. She had been taught that fighting was wrong, but the taste of   
revenge was sweeter than strictly obeying a guardian's will.  
After her meager dinner, Seka went about practicing her knife  
skills on the heaps of trash in the junkyard. Crude dummies could be made  
from wire, old metal skulls, and various other objects depending on the   
size you wanted the dummy to be. Seka built a small army of manequins,  
then sliced them up accordinly. Her blade seemed to never dull, and it  
whipped through the air like a hawk diving for prey.  
"Whatcha doin' there, girly?" Seka glared up at the speaker, a  
slim boy with messy black hair and a smirking face. She gestured at him  
with her blade.  
"I'm practicing. If you wanna laugh at me, you'll be the second  
person I've killed in a week." She cartwheeled backwards and sliced through  
the PVC spine of another dummy. The boy laughed.  
"Second in your life too, eh?" Seka gasped, and reinforced her  
glare.  
"How did you know? Spying on me, eh?" She leapt up, and   
hit the door of an ancient vehicle. The boy sat down lazily on the rusting  
heaps.  
"Heh, still got a long way to go. The name's Hugo."  
"I'm Seka. You probably know that already, don't you?" sneered  
Seka. She couldn't afford to seem nice and homely in any case, or she  
would lose her unsteady reputation. Hugo seemed to notice this.  
"Ahh, ease up. I just came to see who was here. Later, scary  
girl." Hugo bounded off over the rubbish.  
"Why I oughta....." Seka started, then calmed down. She pushed  
the unharmed dummies to the side, and sheathed her blade. She pulled out  
a motheaten blanket, and curled up in the darkest corner of her small metal  
hut, falling asleep with her hand on the handle of her weapon.  
****  
Hugo walked the streets, hidden under a cloak. He could vaugely  
understand why such a girl would turn to a life of crime. She simply had no  
where to run. He had felt that way some time ago, with his brother dead and  
his brother's wife a traitor. He had fled, and continued to pursue his dream  
of reaching Tiphares, the floating paradise that hung above the Scrapyard  
like an alien sun. He would earn the chips it would take for him to reach  
the distant heights, no matter how dirty he had to play.  
****  
Seka woke with the sun the next morning, and checked to make  
sure that she hadn't been robbed during the night. Finding everything in   
order, she wrapped a cloth over her nose and mouth and put on her old hat.  
She journeyed out of the junkyard maze and into the Scrapyard city, where  
she planned to find food and money.  
Food was easy enough, someone had left a half-eaten meal  
hidden behind a telephone booth, probably some junkie had left it there to  
finish later. Seka crept away with it into an alley and hastily bolted down the  
remaining meal. She tossed the trash carelessly away into the gutter, and  
moved back into the sunlight.  
Seka kept an eye out for any easy prey. She followed a cyborg   
into a restaurant, and when he was not looking, she lunged swiftly from the  
shadows and snatched the chips he used to pay for his meal, dashing away  
faster. She could hear him complaining back in the building as she ran   
back to the dump.  
Counting the chips, it was not a big sum, but enough to sustain  
her for a while. Seka practiced more on the dummies, and was only  
harrassed once more by Hugo. She liked this new life, no restraints, no  
boundaries, and the only thing to worry about was the hunter-warriors.  
Not too big of a deal in her book. She would keep an eye out anyways. 


End file.
